


Desperate Times

by AtoTheBean



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: BDSM, Birthday Presents, Bladder Control, M/M, Omorashi, Zach likes seeing Chris desperate, in pubic, reallllly desperate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3302171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTheBean/pseuds/AtoTheBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rules of the evening were as follows: 1) Chris had to drink whenever Zach did.  2) Chris could not use the restroom unless he safeworded.  3)  Zach would decide when the date was over.</p><p>This would be fine if they were home.  </p><p>They weren't at home.</p><p>They were in a very posh restaurant and had already shared a bottle of wine.  And Zach was just getting started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soproudofya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soproudofya/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift to the lovely @soproudofya, who specifically asked for Omorashi. It is not my kink, so here’s hoping I did it justice. Happy Birthday, my dear!!

“Coffee?” the waiter asked.

“No, thank—”

“Yes,” Zach interrupted, giving Chris a small smile. “Yes, I think we’d both like coffee.”

Zach was in his chocolate double-breasted pinstripe suit and amber tie, and looked good enough to eat. And devilish. Literally. Chris was wearing a suit, too, but his collar was unbuttoned, revealing a narrow strip of leather that Zach was now eyeing as he sipped his water. And Chris remembered his instructions for the night and lifted his water glass as well, matching Zach’s sips. A pleased glint suffused Zach’s eyes as he smiled and took one last sip, finally lowering the glass, to Chris’ relief. 

“How was your dinner?”

“Fantastic,” Chris answered. “How did you hear about this place?”

“A friend,” Zach said. “They apparently have wonderful sorbets.”

Chris normally loved sorbets, but considering the rules of tonight’s outing, perhaps a less liquid dessert would be wiser. “I noticed they have lemon tarts as well,” he said, shifting in his seat slightly. 

“Well, that seems fitting, too.” Zach leaned back, pleased, and looking a bit aroused — whether because of Chris’ subtle public obedience or growing discomfort, Chris wasn’t sure. Either were equally capable of turning Zach on. And Chris wasn’t really uncomfortable yet, but his bladder was now full enough that it was causing — what he had discovered at some point was an unusual side effect — distinct flares of arousal. Subtle, but compelling enough that he often pushed the limits of his bladder, especially in the safety of his own home. And the arousal was a lot less subtle when he was sitting across a table from a very sexy Zach, who was showing every sign of being turned on as well. This was the part of it he enjoyed — his crossed wires mixing up signals and making him hard when he should be excusing himself. But he wouldn’t push his luck in public. That was Zach’s doing. Because what Zach liked, among other things, was to see Chris desperate. And what self-respecting Dom/boyfriend _wouldn’t_ take advantage of knowledge about this strange little quirk once they’d gained it? So here they were, in a fancy restaurant, in fancy suits. With Chris just at the edge of his comfort zone and Zach looking like it’s Christmas and Chris was his new favorite toy, just waiting to be broken.

The coffee arrived, and Zach ordered one lemon tart and two forks — at home he’d insist on Chris feeding him, but Zach kept things subtle in public. Then he poured cream into Chris’ coffee, a sugar into his own and picked up his cup with a meaningful look. Chris lifted his cup to his lips and sipped as Zach smiled at him.

Twenty minutes later, he was officially uncomfortable. The tart was delicious, and he licked his lips probably more often than necessary just to watch Zach’s eyes follow his tongue and hopefully make him forget about the damned coffee, which was now on its second refill. 

“I was thinking that maybe we’d walk down to that art gallery’s grand opening before heading home.”

Chris nearly choked on his drink.

“Zach,” he said, recovering and putting the cup down. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Zach gave him an appraising look, taking in everything he could about his body language. And Zach had a very good read on Chris’ body and what its thresholds were — usually better than Chris did himself. He leaned forward and took Chris’ hand, threading their fingers together firmly. “You can always safeword,” he murmured, tracing his thumb along the inside of Chris wrist as if feeling the restraint so often encircling it. His voice held no judgement or condemnation. “If I’m pushing too hard, just safeword, and excuse yourself, and we’ll have had a nice dinner with a bit of flirting.”

He let go and leaned back, expression serene. And Chris knew it was true. He did have that out. And Zach wouldn’t punish him.

But he wouldn’t reward him, either.

Chris crossed his legs, and Zach grinned triumphantly.

It took insanely long for the check to come, and then for Zach to help him with his coat, smiling down briefly at Chris’ semi as he did. Then they were walking down the sidewalk two blocks to a building full of light and people and champagne. Oh, and art. Lots of art. Art featuring waves, and water rippling in the sun, and rivers meandering through valleys.

“You’re evil,” Chris whispered.

Zach laughed and handed him a glass of champagne. He leaned forward, lips brushing Chris’ ear. “You like it,” he whispered. 

God help him, he really did.

“See anything you like?”

Everywhere Chris looked was some form of water. He pulled his coat a little closer around him, hiding his semi and shielding himself. He felt vulnerable here in public. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable under Zach’s watchful eye. And increasingly aroused, because… Zach’s watchful eye. 

Zach took a sip of champagne, raising an eyebrow pointedly. Chris followed suit, walking over to a glass statue of a wave. At different angles, the glass looked different colors. Zach followed him over, considering the figure, tilting his head. Chris turned and moved to a painting. It was almost a game of cat and mouse. For nearly an hour, they moved from piece to piece, Zach setting the pace of champagne consumption, and Chris setting the pace of art viewing, which got faster as the hour went on. Because the more uncomfortable he got, the more he needed to move. And he knew Zach wouldn’t let them leave until they’d seen everything. Every. Last. Piece.

“This one’s quite nice,” Zach said, preventing Chris from moving on by placing a hand on Chris’ hip, and standing closely behind him. It was a painting of waves and foam, the water so translucent it could be sky and the foam clouds. It was evocative and beautiful, and not quite enough to distract Chris as he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. Zach pressed forward a bit more, and Chris stilled as he felt a very prominent erection press into his ass. “Hmmm. George Dmitriev. You can almost hear the rush of the waves.”

“Zach…”

A small laugh huffed against Chris’ ear, and then Zach kissed his cheek. “I wonder how much it is. It might be a nice addition to the bedroom.”

Chris couldn’t help the small groan that escaped his throat. He was really, very uncomfortable now, and still hiding what could hardly be classified as a semi anymore under his coat. But the risk was getting increasingly high that if they stayed much longer, he wouldn’t make it home.

“Zach…” he tried again, and this time he heard a soft satisfied hum. Zach liked the desperation in his voice.

“Okay, we’re going.”

Soon they were in the back of a dark cab, circling the lake before heading up the hill to the house. It felt deceptively private, but it was still definitely public, and Chris was _literally_ squirming — facing away from Zach, pretending to look out the window, but really just concentrating. And then Zach’s hand found the inside of Chris’ thigh, scratching little circles with his fingernail, driving Chris _fucking_ insane. 

This was the razor’s edge. If he got hard enough, it became impossible to pee. Which was good. But it also added pressure to an already intense situation and even caused pain. Which killed the boner, just a little. Which made it easier to piss. To wet himself publicly. Humiliatingly.

Zach _loved_ this razor’s edge.

Chris could feel him watching, studying as Chris repeatedly tightened the muscles in his ass and bit his lip and basically pulled out every trick he’d learned since the age of five. All save one.

“Just hold yourself, baby,” Zach whispered, leaning over. “No one will see you but me.”

Grown men did not hold themselves while wearing designer suits. Chris felt the heat of mortification rising in his cheeks, stinging his throat.

“Look, I’ll even do it, too.” Zach whispered.

That got Chris’ attention. Zach had excused himself to use the restroom twice during the meal. He couldn’t—

Zach flipped up the ends of his jacket to expose his erection pressing against his pants. His left hand was cupped around it, thumb stroking it slowly while his right hand continued to tease Chris’ thigh. He looked up at Zach’s face. Even in the darkness he could tell it held no mockery. Zach was enjoying his desperation, maybe even his mortification, but he wasn’t deriding him for it. He was just turned on. 

And after all, grown men didn’t piss in their Armani suits, either. He grabbed the end of his dick, and Zach groaned softly, wrapping his hand harder around his own. He heard Zach take a steadying breath and then start to stroke his cock again. “Rock a little. It’ll help.”

Chris’ eyes stung as he considered the suggestion. He didn’t want to be so obvious, but he knew Zach was right. He rocked slowly, pinching the end of his dick in one hand, listening to Zach’s breathing become harsher.

“Are you getting close?”

God, he made it sound like Chris was fighting orgasm. He made it sound _sexy_. “Too close.”

“Mmm. Good. You’re doing so well. We’re nearly there.”

Chris looked out the window, astonished to see that Zach was right. They were a block away from home. Maybe he was going to make it.

“So when we get home I can—”

“No. But we’ll be alone.”

Chris let out a slow breath and kept concentrating. Mortified in front of Zach was better than mortified in front of strangers.

He was out the door as soon as the cab stopped, waiting on the shadowy porch with his back to the world, holding himself under his coat as Zach paid the cabbie, sauntered up the walk, and slowly unlocked the door.

Chris’ eyes were truly watering now, from embarrassment as well as desperation and the very physical need to relieve himself.

“Zach—”

“Not yet. Take a deep breath. You’re standing now. It’s better.”

And that… that was true, actually. 

“Let go for a sec so I can get your coat.”

Chris switched hands as Zach removed his coat, not trusting himself at all.

“Take your shoes off and follow me.”

Zach walked them into the master bathroom with the giant shower. And he turned it on.

Which was just cruel, what with the sound of the water and the proximity of the toilet.

“Deep breath. You’re doing so well,” he said, removing Chris’ jacket as he switched hands again.

“Zach—”

Zach touched Chris collar, silencing him. “I’m so proud of you. Just a few more minutes.”

The praise was just enough to stave off the tears that continued to threaten.

Zach knelt in front of him, removing his socks — _I will_ not _piss on Zach, I will_ not _piss on Zach —_ and then unbuttoned his cuffs and shirt. Finally Zach loosened Chris’ belt, which helped marginally, and unfastened his pants, pushing everything down and off him until he was just standing there nude, pinching his dick, tears welling in his eyes.

As if to contradict the iron grip he had on Chris’ will, Zach stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek, as sweet as a teen on a first date. Chris had no idea how he got so lucky to be with this man.

“Go in, face the wall like usual. Wait for me.”

Chris did, mindlessly taking his usual position, but just bracing his brow against one forearm pressed into the tile instead of two. He struggled to hold back the tears, to fight the emotions that were now overwhelming him. Desperation and mortification and a different kind of shame. Because he wasn’t going to make it. He was so close to doing what Zach wanted of him, but he couldn’t hold on another few minutes. He didn’t think he’d hold on even another thirty seconds. His quiet sobs were absorbed by the sounds of the shower, and he was so lost in his own thoughts he hardly registered Zach moving behind him. So focused on keeping the muscles of his bladder tight he was startled when the muscle of his sphincter was probed and breached, a slick finger expertly finding his prostate.

“Fuck, oh _fuck._ ”

“That’s right, baby. That’s exactly right. You did so well.” Zach watched his face from the side as it contorted under this new onslaught of sensation, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled to stop them. “I love seeing you like this,” Zach whispered. "Just on the edge of letting everything go. So pretty when you cry for me."

Chris’ cock was swelling in his hand, the pressure of his bladder momentarily registering second in the list of stimuli.

“Hand up as soon as you can stand it.”

Chris held himself another moment, until he was sure he was too hard to pee, and then raised his arm to the tile wall and braced himself the way Zach liked.

“Perfect,” Zach said, kissing his shoulder. “You’ve been so good for me tonight. How does this feel? Think before you answer. Really feel it first.”

Chris tried to steady his shuddering breaths. Now that he wasn’t terrified of wetting himself immediately, the fullness of his bladder was pleasant again. Arousing. Adding to the arousal caused by Zach’s PhD-level aptitude with Chris’ prostate. But there was also an ache: too full, too hard. It was the razor’s edge again, but this time without the fear of public humiliation. Now it was just the fine line between pleasure and pain that Zach so often walked him along. Except this time it was caused by Chris’ own body instead of Zach’s crops or clamps.

“It’s exquisite.” 

Zach hummed and kissed his shoulder again.

“It’s like I’m balanced on this precipice between needing to come and needing to piss, and you could just keep me here forever.”

“Not forever, baby,” Zach murmured ruefully. “You’re far too sexy for me wait much longer. Far too beautiful in the way you submitted to my every request. You were perfect.” Zach shifted behind him, wrapping one arm around his chest and sucking at his neck as the finger disappeared and was replaced with the slick, relentless pressure his cock.

Chris jerked under Zach’s hands. “Zach, I won’t be able to hold it.”

“I know, baby. I know. I don’t want you to.”

Oh, god!

Chris took a shuddering breath as Zach began to push slowly in, and then let his head fall back on Zach’s shoulder, surrendering to whatever Zach wanted.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. I knew you would be. ‘Exquisite’ doesn’t even begin to cover it, Chris.”

Chris arched, trying to give his bladder room to expand as it was pressed on from behind and below. Zach’s hand trailed lightly down his chest and abdomen, drifting lower until it gently caressed Chris’ aching cock and balls. Zach’s cock amplified everything. Chris was still perfectly balanced on a precipice between pleasure and pain, it was just a longer drop now. _Exquisite_. _Sublime_. 

Zach moved his hand over Chris’ lower abdomen and held it firm as he rolled his hips.

“Fuck!”

“Still too hard, baby? Let’s fix that.” Zach tweaked both his nipples, hard, making Chris cry out and thrash. But with the next thrust, a tiny dribble of urine was expelled, and with the next thrust a bit more. “That’s it, baby. Let it go. You were so good, just let me fuck it out of you now.”

Chris couldn’t hold back the sobs, but his mouth was stretched in a smile as Zach pushed more out with each thrust. Chris was still hard enough that he could feel each pulse and stream as an almost separate event. And it felt _so fucking good_. Such a release. Like a long, soft, orgasm. Zach was clutching at his hips, thrusting harder and harder, a string of praise and expletives flowing from his mouth. Chris was too overwhelmed and blissed out to comprehend everything Zach was saying until he was done, and the acrid smell of shame was fading and Zach had stilled, pulsing inside him.

They both just stood there breathing, Zach’s cock still buried in his ass. Then Zach reached up to get a squirt of the spicy moisturizing body gel he liked, and started stroking Chris’ cock.

“Oh, god.”

“Back to back, Chris... both kinds. God, I love it when you cry for me. So beautiful.”

Chris held onto the wall as Zach pumped his cock back to fully hard, reaching around with his other hand to caress his balls. “Zach, it’s so good.”

“You deserve it. So good to me, letting me play with you in public. Showing me what you’re most ashamed of. So beautiful.”

Chris’ legs were trembling. He was already wrung out, and now tension was building again. Pressure twisting and curling in his gut, muscles taut, breathing labored, and the relentless motion of Zach’s hand. Tugging. Pulling. Pushing him to the edge. Praise and filth whispered against his ears until he was coming, spilling over Zach’s fingers

“Perfect. Fucking perfect, Chris.”

Chris felt Zach pull out of him and lead him into the spray, washing him carefully. Then the spray was off and he was being wrapped in a thick towel, his face dried of water and tears. He felt wrung out. He felt like he could sleep for a month, and when he woke up, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about this: ashamed, relieved…

Zach's fingers brushed along his collar, preparing to remove it.

"No," Chris protested.

Zach framed his face with both hands, studying his face intently. Chris dropped his eyes.

"Okay. You can keep it tonight." Zach kissed him deeply, until Chris could raise his arms around Zach's back. He felt the last remnants of his shame loosen in his chest. "Come to bed, baby," Zach whispered.

They tangled under the covers, Zach holding Chris against his chest. Chris felt comfortable for the first time in hours: limp and relaxed. Zach carded fingers through his hair, and Chris drifted, happy and satisfied, head full of pleasant white noise and the beat of Zach’s heart against his ear.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, Zach’s voice rumbled softly though his chest. “You know how we were planning to go to that Dickens festival next month?”

Chris opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. “Yeah.”

“And I signed us up for both parts of Nicholas Nickleby, back-to-back?”

Chris swallowed thickly, realizing that was more than eight hours of theater. Plus the 2-hour break between the shows. “Yeah.”

Zach’s fingers traced along his spine down to the cleft of his ass. “I think we’ll try it with the butt plug…”

“Jesus…” But he was sure Zach didn’t miss Chris’ shiver or the way his dick twitched against Zach’s leg. 

Zach chuckled, deep and resonant against Chris’ ear. “That’s my baby… always up for a challenge.” Fingers trailed back up his spine, until they were resting on Chris’ collar. Chris shivered again. “I love you, Chris.”

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning up on an elbow so he was hovering over Zach, kissing him the way he did when they weren’t playing or exploring kinks or doing anything other than being themselves. Zach sighed into the kiss.

“I love you, too,” Chris whispered, rubbing his nose against Zach’s before crawling back down to lay his head on Zach’s chest.

He wouldn’t be able to make it through both plays and the break, but if he was very good through the first play, maybe Zach would make use of the break accordingly. And the idea of playing with the buttplug when desperate was enough to make Chris want to be very, _very_ good.

He bit back a grin and settled down to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.artrussia.ru/artists/picture_s.php?pic_id=3903&foa=f&sort=&page=21


End file.
